


Exhale

by doingwords



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Community: wrestlingkink, Established Relationship, Kayfabe Compliant, Light Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-17
Updated: 2015-09-17
Packaged: 2018-04-21 04:38:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 831
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4815368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doingwords/pseuds/doingwords
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Although ready to move past the anger, Dean still has some issues he needs to work out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Exhale

**Author's Note:**

> An answer to [this Dean/Seth prompt](http://wrestlingkink.dreamwidth.org/279.html?thread=340503#cmt340503) on the kink meme: 
> 
>  
> 
> _Everyone assumes that, after reconciling, Dean and Seth are having lots of angry, borderline-still-hateful make up sex. They couldn't be more wrong. Dean and Seth are done with the anger, ready to leave it in the past, and they're more gentle than people give them credit for._

“Dean, you know I’m not gonna hurt you, right?”

Roman is his best friend, and that will never change.

But Seth. Seth is his crash pad, a soft landing that could still break his bones.

He and Seth were in a hotel bed, their bodies entwined. He closed his eyes and breathed—seven seconds in, eight seconds out—as Seth mapped his face with his fingertips. He was so used to being powerbombed onto tables and thrown off ladders that the gentleness was unnerving. Not a single breath relaxed him, though that didn’t stop him from trying. 

“I know,” Dean said. “I know we’re past it.”

“Even though no one believes us.” Seth chuckled, but when Dean kept breathing like he did, he cradled Dean’s jaw. “Do _you_ believe me?”

“Of course.”

“So what is it?”

“I…” One more breath. “I’ve missed you.”

Seth dragged his thumb over Dean’s mouth. “So do something about it.”

Dean brushed a kiss to his thumb, then their mouths touched, and it wasn’t long before their clothes piled like laundry on the floor and Dean had Seth on his back and rocked into him with a steady pump of his hips. Though he was one year stronger, thicker, Seth yielded to him just the same. Dean kept his eyes closed but he could hear Seth, and every moan, every curse was a symphony.

“Dean, fuck, _fuck_.” He felt Seth urge him forward with his legs, felt the crush of his arms around his back. “ _C’mon_.” 

He pressed his face into the curve of Seth’s neck, and the salt on his skin set off a chain reaction of memories: pre-show blowjobs in janitors’ closets, cramped carpools where Seth’s aftershave inspired some sublime combination of dizziness and lust, overnight camping trips at Red Rock Canyon on the few days off they had. Once, he and Seth hiked along a trail under a setting sun, holding hands until Seth ran for his life when they spotted a tarantula nest. At the time Dean thought it was hilarious, but after Seth betrayed him and Roman, he wondered if it’d been an omen. Seth had a habit of moving too fast, leaving others behind or forcing them to follow. And follow he did, making sure Seth would never know a moment’s peace for as long as the two of them worked together. It wasn’t until they talked, really talked, that Dean discovered Seth wasn’t a total asshole, just scared. Life is short, Seth had said, so he lives it in a hurry. But he’s ready to slow down.

And he’s sorry. Sorry for ever letting go of Dean’s hand. 

“Fuck, _fuck_!” Dean felt Seth grab his ass. “Fuck me harder, you asshole.”

Dean laughed, lifted his mouth to Seth’s ear. “Thought you were slowing down from now on.”

And when Seth laughed too, Dean pulled back, both eyes open. He took in the smile on Seth’s face, the warmth and heat of it. The warmth of a good friend, the heat of his all-time favorite fuck. He bumped his nose against Seth’s, kissed his brow. 

“I’ve missed you fucking me,” Seth said, and when Dean plunged in deep, Seth arched up in response and sighed. “I’ve missed _you_.”

Dean kissed Seth— _devoured_ him was more like it—and he squeezed his arms under Seth, held him as he began to fuck in earnest. The way Seth moaned, the way he drew his legs back and tilted his hips up to take more, always more, of him inside forced Dean to abandon every sad sexual fantasy he’d had during their time apart. One year later their bodies still knew how to move together, and those idle dreams plagiarized the real thing—the utter perfection of Seth stroking his dick, basking in the simple pleasure of being fucked by the man who loves him. When Seth came, it was like a bomb going off, his voice too loud and his body shaking with the force. Dean came soon after, his fingers woven tight into Seth’s hair like he feared an escape. Maybe a part of him did. 

After Seth cleaned them both, he curled close, kissed Dean's shoulder. Dean combed Seth's hair with his fingers, thoughtful. “Y’know, you should wear one of those um, what are those things called.” He gestured as though beckoning Seth toward him. “Dolph wears it all the time now, um…” And with a snap of his fingers, he said, “French braid.”

Seth groaned, clearly having expected another answer. “I’m not wearing a French braid.”

“Why not?”

Seth guided Dean’s arm over his shoulder, down his chest, and locked their fingers. “Because I’d look stupid.”

“So?”

“Is that it, you wanna laugh at me?”

Dean glanced at their joined hands. He took one useless breath, then another. “It’ll be like old times.”

After a long pause, Seth smiled at Dean and said, “I’d rather make some new times.” 

And it was then that Dean well and truly exhaled.


End file.
